The Power of Love: A Sequel
by readingrachel
Summary: After Charlotte Lise Holmes goes into a coma, and the others are saved, Sherlock begins to wonder what's next for him and his daughter
1. Chapter 1

"What did you do to her," Mycroft said carefully as Lestrade's men came and grabbed her.

The hospital's nurses soon came in as well checking her vitals.

"She just went into a coma sir," one nurse said, not directing it towards anyone.

"What. Did you do...to her," Mycroft repeated, ignoring the statement.

"You know Mycroft for once I didn't actually completely screw up...not this time that is."

"You saved her," Greg stated in shock.

"Once Moriarty told me of his plans I knew hers. She's pretty predictable."

"How would you know?"

She turned her head towards Sherlock for a moment.

"Excellent question. Since I've never met her nor have I seen you in years," she stated coldly.

After realizing he had a sister and promising to be there for her, he visited her at Sherinford on the daily. That is, until he met Charlotte.

His life became busier and busier until finally, his sister was at the back of his mind.

"You promised me Sherlock," she began, "and I could of killed her to uphold your promise you know."

Sherlock glared at her for a moment.

"But killing her would've killed you too and I couldn't have that," she smiled with her eyes wide, "so I went with the latter."

They soon escorted her out, leaving the four men, Mycroft, Sherlock, Greg, and Thomas, alone with Charlotte laying peacefully on her hospital bed, while her violin still remained on the ground.

"This can't be real," Charlotte said out loud.

"I'm sorry love but it is," Ms. Hudson said at the end of her hospital bed.

"I got shot in the head, survived, and you're telling me that my..."

"Yes, sweetheart I'm sorry. Sherlock and Thomas didn't survive."

"But Eliza she promised! She...She...," she suddenly started sobbing uncontrollably, unable to control her emotions.

The walls then started to shake, cracking at the sounds of her cries. She then closed her eyes for two seconds and reopened them, noticing everything had disappeared.

"Narrow it down," a voice stated, "Narrow it-"

"This isn't real! This can't be real! I know it isn't...This must be...the coma," she then realized.

She then heard voices talking.

2 months later.

"You can't keep visiting her everyday Sherlock."

"I can and I will," Sherlock said rubbing his eyes.

"She's gone! Can't you see," Mycroft pointed to Charlotte's cold body, "but you are putting her through all this just so you can-"

"Get. Out."

"Sherlock-"

"GET OUT," he yelled throwing a vase at him.

"I'M NOT GONE," Charlotte yelled, "HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?! I'M NOT-"

She covered her mouth for a moment, tears coming down her eyes.

She started going towards the white walls and knocking on them, hoping for an answer, for someone to hear her, but nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

She started throwing things, anything she could find, and still nothing.

She collapsed on the ground looking at the white ceiling above her head.

"I give up," she whispered, "just..just let me go please," she begged.

No response.

"CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? JUST LET ME GO SHERLOCK," she screamed, "j-just let me go papa," she cried.

Sherlock brought his violin, holding it firmly but also with grace.

A familiar voice in his head said, "play this one Papa."

He turned around to find no owner to the voice, only Charlotte's cold body hooked up on wires as she's always been.

"Don't give up," a voice stated, "it's not your time yet."

"What do I do then," she cried, "How do I get out of this hell hole?"

"Hum."

"What?!"

"Hum."

She then quickly had a flashback.

"Remember when I showed you Mary and John's wedding song?"

Charlotte nodded while a tear went down her face.

"Hum it," his voice echoed, "Hum it."

"HUM IT."

As Sherlock played the song that the voice recommended, he soon realized why it sounded so familiar.

The last time she came this close was when he told her to hum the same song.

He kept playing it while other members of the family soon came in.

It was her birthday today. She would be 19 today.

Suddenly Sherlock stopped playing for a moment and for once in his life, he listened.

He went closer to Charlotte's bed, closer and closer until finally his face was just inches apart from hers.

"NURSE," he yelled, "SHE'S HUMMING."


	2. Chapter 2

The Power of Love Ch. 2

Quickly nurses and doctors started scrambling in the room, kicking everyone but Sherlock out.

"Try waking her up," a nurse said towards Sherlock. He soon got his violin once again until-

"No not that. Speak to her."

"What?"

"Just do it," John yelled through the door.

"Charlotte," he paused, "Charlotte, wake up. It's time to wake up," he whispered with a tear going down his eye, "wake up. Wake-"

Their was then a large breath intake as her eyes went wide peering around the room trying to remember what happened.

Everyone soon barged in as they realized she was awake.

"SHERLOCK," she cried, tears going down her eyes, opening her arms up for an embrace. He quickly accepted and smiled, but it soon faltered when she stuttered, "t-t-they said y-you were dead p-papa. They said you were d-dead."

"I'm right here," he said softly, "I'm right here."

"John, Mary, Eliza!"

They all surrounded her in a classic Watson hug.

"Eliza, everyone's safe?"

"Of course just like I promised."

Charlotte smiled.

"Good."

She then turned to her attention to Mycroft.

"Mycroft, thank Euros for me will you?"

He smiled and nodded, grateful that she was back.

Thomas soon revealed himself looking downward towards the floor.

"Can we talk alone for a moment," she said to no one as she looked at him.

Soon everyone left as quickly as the came in, leaving Thomas and Charlotte alone.

Thomas looked up at her with a frown.

"You...idiot."

Molly, who just got off of work, listened as well as Ms. Hudson through the door trying to catch up with what just happened.

"Yeah sorry about that. Not the best date in the world," she said frowning back but soon smirked at her joke.

"Do you realize what you did?! You sacrificed your life for-"

"Yeah it's sorta what I do for the people I care about Thomas," she stated.

"You also tell the people you care about their psychopathic uncles and plans for the future right? So what does that make me."

"That man is not my-"

"That's not the point Charlotte. You should've told me that you knew something like this was going to happen."

"Moriarty would've-"

"Before then. Like you did with Eliza. Because that's what friends do for each other. They tell each other plans. You have told me, over and over again, about how much I mean to you yet-"

"Yet?! I saved your life! How does that not show-"

Thomas then walked to the door and slammed it open, causing Molly and Ms. Hudson to lose their balance, and left.

Leaving Charlotte Holmes feeling like she screwed up once again.


	3. Chapter 3

The Power of Love Ch. 3

Weeks past and Charlotte was working on her endless amount of makeup work. Typing on her computer she was writing an essay on a famous experiment and how it's results effected the time period.

She heard music outside and through her window, she saw people dancing in the lobby.

For what reason? Who knows.

"Do you want to dance then," Thomas' voice in her head said.

"Go away, I'm busy," she sighed while continuing the write her paper.

She quickly stopped then sighed.

"Thomas I know you're behind the door," she said out loud.

Their was no movement.

"Please can we just...I don't know talk? Sit," she said towards the door.

The door moved slowly to see a familiar face. She smiled a little bit. But it soon faltered when she saw his frown.

"Look-"

"If this chat is going to include you being a smart arse and someone who wants sympathy-"

"Ouch that hurt," she joked, "right here," she pointed towards one of her legs.

"I'm not going to feel sorry for you," he said shaking his head, "even if you did get shot into a coma which led to you reteaching yourself to walk."

She laughed.

"Nope," he said popping the p, "not even a little bit," he said as he sat down on his chair, "We need to talk."

"Yup," she nodded seriously, "I'll start by saying I'm sorry. Since your my first and only best friend, you had the right to know that sooner or later I might...," she paused.

"Yeah," he nodded, "And thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything," he smirked.

"Their is a couple more things I feel like we should tell each other."

"Do you want to go first?"

"Fine," she sighed, "I was mute as a kid. Thanks to my wonderful and gracious blood relatives and siblings. Your turn."

"My Dad wanted me to continue his blackmailing spree. He gave me a file on everyone and everything. Your turn."

"What did you do with it?"

"Nope it's your turn."

"I have an addictive personality. Your turn."

"I lit the files on fire. Your turn."

"I...," she paused, trying to think if this was the right time, "We've been through a lot as acquaintances to friends to now partners and...this may sound rash but...I-I love you."

He looked at her for a moment before carefully sitting himself on her hospital bed, careful not to squish or tangle any of the wires.

He held her face and laughed.

"I love you too. No need to be nervous. It's just me."

She put her hand on top of his and blushed.

"It's just you?! The mathematical genius who can do just about anything he can put his mind to? The person who decided to put up with a mess like me," she said looking down at her hospital gown.

He moved his hands to make her look at him.

"You. Are. Not. A. Mess. You are the smartest and scariest person I have ever met. Now comeon," he stood up letting go of her, offering his hand.

"Tom, I have to," she started gesturing towards her laptop.

"I'll help you with it later."

"But-"

"Charlotte Lise Holmes you are out of a coma and all you want to do is work?! Comeon!"

She rolled her eyes and gripped his hand hard to get up.

"Now come on. Carefully now," he said whispering as her bad leg shook a little.

He passed her a nearby cane.

"Here rely on this for a little bit."

She rolled her eyes again at the fact of how old she looked, from the cane to the knots in her messy hair.

When they finally went to the lobby, the music stopped and everyone left.

"Are you serious," she sighed in defeat.

"Now lemme take the cane."

"Wait what about my-"

"Dancing is about relying on each other, that's what my mum used to say."

"Your mum married a blackmailer."

"Yeah not sure if she's the most reliable source for good quotes."

She laughed while gripping on to his hands tighter since he put the cane on a nearby chair.

She slowly put her head on his shoulder as they swayed to nothing but Thomas' humming.

And as she closed her eyes, she hummed too.


	4. Chapter 4

You know, I wonder all the time why some of y'all still want me to post chapters. Honestly, this concept all started off as a brain dump. Just a bunch of ideas I wanted to write about that I loosely put together. I thought it was bad when I first started, and I still do. However, I gotta finish what I started. Not just for you, but for me, Charlotte, and this Sherlock Universe I created.

The Power of Love Ch. 4

Soon dancing became her therapy. Nothing too fancy like Eliza wanted her to do, but dancing nonetheless.

Next thing she knew she was twirling and moving her feet wildly to jazz while Thomas just tried to keep up.

She wasn't the best dancer, but she had fun. And that's what really mattered.

Once she fully recovered, Thomas and Charlotte saw each other more often when she returned to uni. Waving each other as they went past, helping each other with equations in study rooms with walls that were white boards.

But sooner or later, she started getting letters.

Letters about her college flat fees not being paid.

Of course, the thing about scholarships is that they can only pay for so much, which Charlotte knew from the beginning.

And although her father was not the richest man, she knew he was able to afford to pay the fees until she got a job, which she of course offered to get to ease the load, but he bluntly refused saying she needed to focus on her education.

So the fact that Sherlock didn't pay the rent for the past few months made her more than suspicious.

She tried calling him, but no response.

He always was a man of text.

Are you okay? -CLH

I'm fantastic -SH

She paused, deducing the text.

She then called Mycroft.

"Hello?"

"It's Charlotte. It's important I swear."

She can sense him rolling his eyes through the phone.

"Did you take down the cameras once you took the box?"

"Yes why?"

She hung up immediately.

She knew where this was going.

And it wasn't going on the best route.

She then wrote an email saying she was moving out of her flat, saying she had a home nearby, which was the truth.

What she didn't say was why.

She sent a text to him several weeks ahead of time before finally going up the steps to hear yelling and screaming.

"Oh god."

She rushed up the steps and slammed open the door to hear:

"ALL THE WORRLDDDDDSSS A STAGE," she then saw Sherlock shoot the wall several times.

"And all the men and women merely players," they both murmurered at the same time, until finally he collapsed on the floor, making her run to him.

"Papa!"

His vision was fuzzy, shapes and figures were surrounding him.

"Papa," a little girl's voice said, "PAPA," it yelled again but this time it was a woman's voice.

He awoke to see Charlotte with her head in her hands, clearing worried, sitting by his side while he was on a hospital bed.

They said nothing for several hours when they waited for the sign out sheet, to call a cabbie, and to ride home.

Absolutely nothing.

"You scared the crap out of me Sherlock."

He turned his head carefully to see her sad face looking downward, clearly disappointed in him.

"You call me by my name when you have negative emotions and Papa when you have positive ones," he pointed out.

"I'm not in the mood for deductions-"

"So you see me as your father sometimes."

"Because that's the truth," she snapped, "sometimes you act like a father, and other times you're," she looked at him up and down, "this."

She took his stuff, "and I'm the one who has to take care of you. And not because you're old, it's because you make stupid decisions."

"Correction," he paused, snatching his stuff back, "I'm not sometimes your father. I am not and I will never will be your father."

She suddenly grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall, careful not to choke him.

"THIS ISN'T FUNNY. NONE OF THIS IS FUNNY."

"I'm only stating the facts Charlotte," he said smoothly, "your father abused you and I took you in. Nothing more. Nothing less."

She looked into his eyes, to no longer find the compassion, the love, or all the emotion that she saw in his eyes for so long. In his eyes she found nothing, which showed that what he just said, he meant in his inner soul.

She slowly let go of his throat, afraid she would kill him in that moment, and took her bag. Looking at him one last time, she stated:

"No shit, Sherlock."


	5. Chapter 5

The Power of Love Ch. 5

"Greg," she stated on the phone seriously.

"Yeah," he stated while having food in his mouth.

"Do a drugs bust at Bakers Street."

"I thought you-"

"For Sherlock."

"Oh god. It's for the case isn't it?"

"Probably," she sighed, "tell him while you're there that I'll solve it while he is watched. I can multitask."

"Uhhh Char...I don't think you should take this one."

"Why?"

"I...uh...," he paused, "it involves your grandmother. And I don't mean Mummy Holmes."

Charlotte's breath hitched.

"She died recently in the same house you were...yeah. She uh...got stabbed."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," she muttered, "besides what's better than a good old fashioned family reunion?"

They soon hung up and Charlotte contacted Molly to watch him after the bust was done with.

"What about the case," Sherlock stated slowly.

"Charlotte's doing it. She got Greg to sign a form to give her more time on her work. Nothing to worry about except yourself," she said trying to sound cheerful, except deep down she was as upset at him as Charlotte was, but figured their was no point in reasoning with him.

"Nothing to worry about," he sighed, "she's going to her...," he paused.

"I thought you weren't my father," a voice stated.

Sherlock turned to see Charlotte at the doorway.

"I came for the file. Greg said you had it."

"I'm not apologizing for doing what I had to do for a case."

"You made a promise Sherlock and you broke it. Now where is the file?"

"Promises are meant to be broken."

"Where. Is. The. File?"

He slowly glided to the nearby table and glided back, handing her the file.

"I meant what I said," he admitted holding the file firmly.

"I know," she said trying to get it from his firm grip.

"You aren't my daughter."

"I know," she said trying to pull the file out of his hands, but he wasn't budging.

"I'm going to make some tea," Molly laughed awkwardly.

"Sit."

"Sherlock-"

"Clearly we have to have this chat so sit."

"I don't have time for-"

"Sit."

She sighed and sat in John's chair.

"You aren't my daughter," he said looking at the file, "you are something...undefined," he finished presenting her with the file.

"As in...?"

"You are a friend, a relative, a co-worker, a soldier, a-"

"So I'm your daughter?"

He blinked in surprise for a couple seconds, "No. You're more than that. You're family."

She then smiled as she walked out.

"Still not letting you leave."

He sighed in annoyance.


	6. Chapter 6

The Power of Love Ch. 6

"Don't worry," the detective inspector stated to the large family, "we have the best person we got doing your case."

Charlotte Lise Holmes went up to the front lawn seeing the vines still growing on the old white home and the front yard looking as dead as usual.

It was if nothing had changed. Time yet stood still as she stopped at the door, about to knock.

"Charlotte?!"

"Miss me," she asked trying to hide her nervousness with a smirk and fake confidence.

"No way am I letting HER solve this case," a familiar face argued.

She looked at Lestrade for a moment, tightening her grip.

"She is one of the most intelligent people I know," Greg stated, "it's not my fault you didn't realize the strengths she clearly has Mr..."

"Call me Hans. And she's a psychopath. I'm not allowing that," he stared her down, "in my house."

She walked through the door anyway, examining the dead body near the couch, putting gloves on.

"Let me see the knife," she stated quietly, with her hand out.

He suddenly snatched the evidence out of Greg' hands.

She looked at the way he gripped it, then the angle of stab marks.

"Arrest him," she stated firmly.

"For compromising with the evidence?"

"No. For murder."

"So you had to take drugs to figure it out? It took me 2 minutes and that was only because I had to actually interact with people."

"I didn't take drugs to solve it. I took drugs to get in the flat. Surrounded by idiots that family," Sherlock sighed as he sat in his flat watching Charlotte sitting across him, scribbling notes for Uni.

John came by for the next shift of babysitting Sherlock while Charlotte got an email from a professor about an opportunity for her and other scholarship winners for the end of the year.

She answered it quickly, leaving the flat, explaining herself as she left.

"You want me to what," she asked trying to be calm, after the meeting was over. The meeting explained that they wanted to push them harder than anyone has ever pushed them. To show off their weaknesses to truly realize their strengths.

"I want you to dance."

"I can't help but feel," she lowered her voice, "that you are using and manipulating me if you don't mind me saying sir."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sir, I feel like you are setting me up to fail," she clarified.

"That, my dear, is the point."

She was taken aback for a moment, until finally she understood.

"Sir-"

"Enough. I will not have this debate with you any longer. If you don't do it, you will have your scholarship taken away along with your admission here Ms. Holmes. So I suggest you prepare."

She straightened her back and stiffened.

Their was no choice in this.

"Fine."


	7. Chapter 7

The Power of Love Ch. 7

"I am just so tired of-"

"I know."

"Jumping through all these hoops and-"

"I know."

"Just to prove myself! ME. I mean we both-"

"I know."

"And they're trying to make US out of all people, look well rounded-"

"I know. It's ridiculous," Thomas sighed as he messed with his hair, clearly stressed about what his "project," was.

"So what's yours again?"

"I have to do a speech. About me."

"Oh god."

"Yeah. I don't even like myself that much."

"And we HAVE to do it. That's the worst part."

"Yup," he sighed, popping the p while typing on his laptop at the restaurant while Charlotte was just thinking.

She put her head in her hands, her elbows resting on the small wooden table, "How am I going to even-"

"Ask the dance company."

"I can't just-"

"You can. I asked if we were allowed help. That counts as help."

She stared at him for a moment.

Then she came up with a brilliant idea but then faltered for a moment.

"Will you...uh..."

He looked up from his laptop for a moment, and stared at her uncomfortable face.

"You don't know the dance company?! You literally are in Orchestra with them every day."

She looked down at her fingers.

"Fine," he sighed getting back to work.

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. I'll introduce you to them."

Weeks past and Charlotte rehearsed, Eliza stood by observing.

There was no doubt they looked similar. So when Char asked Eliza to play the coma version of her in her interpretation of the coma, since Char had to actually dance, and Elizabeth had danced in the past, Eliza of course agreed.

"I don't understand," she sighed shaking her head.

"What," Charlotte asked, clearly exhausted.

"You're so graceful when you're on a case yet here...nothing," she explained. Her head suddenly jerked upward and her eyes brightened, "THAT'S IT."

"Hm," she asked drinking some water.

"Char look at me."

She looked at her confused.

"LOOK."

She turned around and stomped her way to her dramatically.

"This," she explained, shaking her shoulders, "is a case. The client? You," she started, "each trick in this involves something similar to what you've done in the past for self defense. This is your case and you are the detective. The mystery is if you survive. Now GO!"

Practice after practice with the dancers and she was somewhat getting it.

Not on Eliza's level but still. She was getting it.

And then the stage was finally set, she was first, since last time she was last for the audition.

She hid under the bed as Eliza pretended to sleep on it.

She slid out as the music played and the two dancers, covered in black body suits and masks, one wearing a scarf while the other an umbrella, looked like they were arguing.

She made a face of confusion and bewilderment as she extended her leg and twirled, careful not to slip.

The dancers in the back then started to stand, lifting her gracefully, as she tried not to fall, and put her down as they pretended to drop her.

They then started arguing through dance over the monitor near the bed.

One button, and she would be dead.

They danced as she conveyed emotion trying to get them to stop, but fully knowing she couldn't.

Then another dancer came.

In the same black body suit and a mask, this one stood out the most simply because he worse shades on top and a red tie.

She stared at him perplexed for a moment as they mirrored each other's movements until finally he pretended to strangle her as she reached for her bed and her, or Eliza's sleeping form.

She then lost her grip, as he held her back, giving him a creepy and eerie vibe.

The recording of the piano became louder as she let herself go from her attacker and then she went to the bed and woke herself, or Eliza, up.

The audience clapped as the music faded and looked at Elizabeth's face.

This wasn't a competition yet the headmaster couldn't help but make a comment as she went backstage.

"You always do sad things. Sad music, sad dances, sad sad sad."

"Life is sad," she said definitively.

"It was perfect. All of it," he began.

"Thank you."

"It wasn't supposed to be."

She frowned.

"It was supposed to show your flaws. That-"

"Sir you, the public, and I have known my flaws from the very start. Was it really necessary? Besides one of my biggest flaws hit you right in the face."

"What is that?"

"Don't disappoint him, don't disappoint him," she repeated as a young Charlotte was drawing on a piece of paper. It was Sherlock's birthday at the time and since she couldn't leave and buy something herself, she did the next best thing.

She knew that it was highly likely he wouldn't appreciate a drawing but it was all she could think of.

She sighed as she tried to draw the line over and over again until she gave up and figured this was the best she could do.

Time passed once again to when she got a tutor for school, as she did a test.

"Don't disappoint him," she repeated over and over once again, this time older.

But over time, the fear of disappointing him soon became disappointing herself. And she found herself striving to be good at everything that mattered to her.

She sighed once again as she left her mind palace.

"Perfectionism."


	8. Chapter 8

The Power of Love Ch.8

"Your feet were sickled."

Charlotte looked down as she went down the row of seats to sit next to her family.

"Other than that it was great."

"Thank you," she whispered to the older curly haired man.

She stiffened as the concert was getting towards the end.

Thomas was last.

"You know," he began, "people expect me as a math major to just talk about equations and formulas. But this year, I realized that there is something more important than that."

He continued thanking people and talking about the power of people and human existence. After all, humans did create math equations.

"There is one last person I have to thank," he paused.

"I swear to god if he mentions me-"

He started pacing around until finally-

"And that is Charlotte Lise Holmes."

"You cock," she whispered trying to signal him to stop.

"My wonderful girlfriend."

She covered her face with her hands.

"She's blushing, I can tell," Mary whispered to John who was sitting nearby.

"Who taught me that there is someone always crazier than you," he smiled, "but in a good way..in a good way," he looked dreamy now and even Charlotte could not deny that in the spotlight, he looked good.

He then ended his speech quickly, and as they met in the end to take some pictures for the school, Charlotte fake smiled as all the winners posed together.

"I hate you," she smiled looking at the photographer.

"You know you loved it," he smiled back looking at the photographer as well as he put his arm around her.

"Alright now the families!"

"Come on Tom," Char stated gruffly.

"This is a family picture," Sherlock stated coldly.

"Which is why he stays."

Tom smirked while everyone tried to fit in the picture as photographers flashed their cameras.

After they finished, Mycroft asked Charlotte for a private conversation.

Charlotte looked confused for a moment and followed him.

"Your performance was...interesting."

"Thanks?"

"But a couple words of advice for you."

"Oh god," she muttered.

"Grow. Up."

She stared at him for a moment as he paced around with his umbrella, which Charlotte for a long time figured was his only friend.

She thought of her retort for a moment longer, trying to say something clever or unexpected. But she thought of nothing. So she decided to be honest.

"What you're doing," she paused, looking at him up and down, "is truly ineffective."

"What?!"

"What you're doing," she repeated slowly, "is-"

"Yes I heard you," he snapped, "rephrase."

"You're coldness and lack of emotion. It isn't effective. It won't help you now and it never will help you."

"That is part of my job. It isn't coldness. It's professionalism."

"Oh," she paused doing a mocking realization, "so it's professional for someone to tell another to grow up?"

"Yes," he snapped, "if they are acting like a child. Which you are."

"No. It's rude. And you're trying to hide from the fact that you hate that you told Sherlock to let me go. You hate it. And you hate it even more that I know too."

"How did you know anyway," he asked coldly.

"I was there when you said it."

"How. Did. You. Know," he stated his voice low and intimidating.

"Hear me loud and clear," she started, trying to be as equally intimidating, "I heard you. I heard all of it. And you were right."

"What?!"

"I was in pain. You were right. And at the time, I agreed with you."

"What changed?"

"Someone told me to wake up," she stated quietly.

"Who," he asked quietly back.

"I," she paused for a moment, "looked all over my mind palace for that voice for months now."

"You don't know," he asked shocked.

"Not in the slightest."

He laughed for a moment, until he realized she was serious.

"You know it's time."

He looked at her confused.

"It's time for the ice man," she stated slowly, "to finally melt."

His eyes widened.


	9. Chapter 9

[ I have been inactive lately due to the death of someone who was very close to my life. Right now, I'm spending time to be closer with loved ones so we can get through this together. Please be patient with me, sorry. ]

The Power of Love Ch. 9

"Excuse me Mycroft," a high voice asked

Sherlock Holmes was on an emergency case and wasn't permitted to bring a five year old to the crime scene. Mainly because it was a little bit graphic.

Not that Sherlock cared. More like Greg did.

"I mean Mr. Mycroft," she corrected.

"Call me Mycroft," he replied trying to get work done.

"Can you help me?"

"Hm?"

"Help me up," she asked nervously.

He turned to see her pointing towards the piano, but could see she wasn't tall enough to climb the seat.

He rolled his eyes and put his cold hands around her waist putting her as far away from him as possible. While he walked carefully she stiffened, noticing his uncomfortableness.

"Thank you," she stated as he sat her down.

He soon walked away to get back to work.

"Wait," she stated quickly.

He stopped walking and rolled his eyes once again. He smiled trying to hide his annoyance and asked, "Yes?"

She put her hand and signaled for him to sit next to her on the bench.

"Sherl said you can play and it's good to learn from others. That's what my tutor told me."

"And?"

"Can you-"

"No."

"Pretty pleaaaassseeeeee," she begged, "please uncle my."

"My name is-"

"Pleeeaaassseeeeeeee," she begged once again.

He rolled his eyes once again as he promptly sat next to her.

The music on the sheet was Heart and Soul.

"You need help with this piece? It's easy!"

"It's a warmup piece," she explained.

He sighed and started to play, his long boney fingers playing the beginning with nothing but accuracy.

She soon came in playing the chords watching him and observing in the process.

Meanwhile Anthea took a picture from afar, hoping Mycroft wouldn't notice.

Mycroft blinked his eyes once again as he saw her, now older, walk away.

Mycroft ate quickly until he saw what the two girls were watching on television.

It was Christmas time once again and a young Eliza and Charlotte were watching "The Sound of Music."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his elder brother's over dramatic reaction.

Mycroft quickly walked, faster than he ever walked in his lifetime, and picked up Charlotte out of protectiveness as she squeaked in surprise.

"Mymy what are you-"

"There is no possible way," he proclaimed, as he sent her into another room, "I am letting my niece watch that."

He then realized what he just did and carefully put her down seeing her red cheeks. He walked away as if nothing happened as Sherlock smirked at the moment.

Mycroft blinked twice once again to go back to reality.

"I've always hated musicals," he muttered.


End file.
